Suppose I Said You're My Saving Grace
by DeeDeePicklez
Summary: She talks in this outlandish, high pitched voice and she really makes him laugh. He doesn't even know why, she's not even saying anything all that funny and seriously, she's painted green. But there's something about this girl...


Suppose I Said You're My Saving Grace

AKA The One Where Finn Hudson is Aidan Shaw.

A/N: Aidan Shaw from Sex and the City for those who don't know. You'll be fine if you don't watch or know who he is, and if you do, enjoy the little references where you can find them. Enjoy!

He's broken when he meets her.

He's angry 100% of the time.|

Kurt says he can see it radiating off of him. This anger, this darkness.

But he doesn't need Kurt to tell him that, he can feel it enveloping him from the inside out all on his own.

It's worse than the last time, because the last time he was angry at _her_, with good reason. She cheated on him and she lied to him and just- God she broke his heart into a million pieces.|

But this time he's angry with himself. Which really is ten times worse because, before he could rip up a picture of her, and imagine 84 different ways to kill Noah Puckerman and throw her curling iron out the window. But now he only has himself to blame. If he wasn't so stupid he could have saved himself all this pain.

The signs were always there. He knew who she was, he just never accepted it. He could see it in her eyes every day they were engaged; the girl who loved to shop avoiding shopping for a wedding dress, the news they were getting married never on the tip of her tongue, that beat of hesitation before she finally said yes. They were all there, he was just in denial. For so long he thought he could want it enough for the both of them. And for a while he did.

And then everything came crumbling down like the wall in her living room he broke through to give them space; a cruel and perfectly timed metaphor.

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But now he just feels like the dumb little kid trying to fit the square block into the circular hole; everyone waiting for him to figure it out, to see the fight was pointless and the end would always be the same; you can't push a square into a circle. And he couldn't push Quinn to be who he wanted her to be.

And he can't stop going over every tiny detail; it all seems so obvious now that he can't believe he overlooked it for so long. It makes him bitter and livid and sad and he can barely even recognize himself anymore.

So yes, he's broken when he meets her, and avoiding people at all costs because he feels like there's a dark cloud hanging over his head and that anyone who comes too close will get sucked in too.

But when she comes into his bar, well half his bar, half his best friend Sam's, she kind of makes it hard to avoid her.

She's crying for one, and soaking wet and oh, did he mention she's green? Not like sick green, like actually _painted green_.

He looks around frantically for Sam, who is really the bartender; Finn's just a silent partner who happens to be watching the bar during a normally dead hour while Sam makes a call to their liquor provider. He even looks around for Mike, which is ridiculous because Mike's not even working tonight.  
He waits another minute, desperately hoping Sam will come back before he has to talk to this girl.

The crying, wet, green girl.

No such luck.  
"Can I help you?"

She's been ringing out her hair and shaking off her legs ever since she came in here so when she looks up at him now, it's the first time he can really see her face. It's sort of like dripping and stuff because apparently his dark cloud is bigger than he thought, and it's raining over the rest of the city too.

She looks like a melting apple candle - the green kind, obviously, and she's pissed.

"He speaks! I was starting to think you were some deaf-mute strain of bar tender."

Her words kind of bite, but he can't really say it bothers him. He feels the worst when people are really cheery around him, like the Grinch or something. Every time Kurt gushes about some scarf he found at the vintage store on 30th or when Sam waxes poetic about his pregnant girlfriend, he feels like the anger is eating him alive. He balks at happy people now, that's his life. He's the guy who takes all the presents from the Who's because he can't stand how happy they are.

He pictures the tiny shriveling heart of the Grinch and can morbidly picture his own mirroring the image, and he catches the eye of this green girl again. The green girl and the green Grinch...

She's looking at him expectantly and he's clearly missed something she said, lost in his ridiculous, green, day dream, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, do you serve drinks here or are you just going to stare at me all day?"

Is she serious? How is he not supposed to stare…she's _green_ "I- sorry. Yes, we serve drinks, what can I get you?"

He hopes it's something simple, like a beer he can just pop open or a vodka on the rocks, he can pour liquid into a glass just fine.

"A cosmopolitan please."

He winces because Quinn loves cosmos. They're her drink; she used to say she made them popular. But more so because he has no idea how to make one and this green girl looks like she's down to her last lick of patience.

"I-"

"I'm sorry?"

"It's just- we don't have that. We don't have cosmopolitans." It's a terrible excuse, but it's the best he can come up with under her scrutiny.

"You don't have them? What does that- you don't have any of the ingredients or..."

The only thing he knows about cosmos is that they are pink and strong, so he goes for broke, "We don't have cranberry juice, or-or...gin."

"Gin?" She says slowly, a smile creeping across all her (green) features until she's laughing. Laughing hard. At him.

He shoots her a glare. He so does not need to be criticized by a little alien girl right now.

"I'm sorry, but who put you in charge of a bar!? Cosmos do not have gin and bartenders don't wait 5 minutes to serve their only customer and-"

"I'm not a bartender." He tells her through gritted teeth

"Not a good one, that's for sure."

"Not one at all, actually."

She gives him this placating nod like she doesn't believe him, and she's smirking at him like she's the teacher and he's the student, it's infuriating. Which is quite the feat, seeing as he's already so angry. He has to retaliate somehow, "You know your green right? And like- dripping?"

She gasps at him "Excuse me?"

"You're wearing all black- you're literally the wicked fucking witch, melting before my eyes…"

She's stunned, scandalized, surprised. That much he knows. He doesn't think he's ever said fuck to a stranger before, or very many times in his life to be honest. And normally he's way nicer than this, but he's toxic right now, Kurt says so, he knows so, and well, Sam shouldn't have left the Grinch in charge.

She wipes at her eyes a few times, she's not crying anymore, but he thinks she's just so flabbergasted that she doesn't know what to do with herself. Her hands start to turn green she's rubbing so furiously and he just watches. Which is continuing to piss her off, he can tell.

He kind of likes this weird green girl, he decides. She's not wrong for criticizing his bartending skills, even though it's annoying as hell that she did. And the way she's freaking out right now is pretty entertaining.

He thinks maybe he broke her.

She just keeps rubbing her eyes and stuttering, like she's trying to find the words but nothing can possibly express how flummoxed she is. He pictures robot noises coming out of her brain, _Error. Error. Error._

He laughs at the thought, "So who's the deaf-mute now?"

She squints at him, "Oh that's very cute."

"I try."

He smiles and it feels genuine, for the first time in a long time. It must be infectious too because she's totally fighting the urge to join him.

"So give it up, what's the deal with the green thing?"

She turns up her nose dramatically, "I don't think you deserve to know."

"Probably not, but you're not mean enough to leave me hanging are you?"

She ponders this with purpose, letting him wait it out.

"You can't let me leave this bar without knowing the story behind the girl with the melting green face..."

"Oh god! When you put it like that, I sound like some weird sci-fi character!"

He shrugs, "If the green face fits..."

She gapes again, but this time there's a smile tugging at the edges, "Jeez! I have never been charmed like this in my life!"

She talks in this outlandish, high pitched voice and she really makes him laugh. He doesn't even know why, she's not even saying anything all that funny and seriously, she's _green_. But there's something about this girl...

"Alright, not-a-bar tender-not so charming-no name... I will tell you the tale of my melting green face, but I'll need a drink first."  
He starts to ask her what she wants again, but before he can get any words out she stands up and comes behind the bar like she owns the place, leaving a trail of green stained water in her wake.

Seriously, who is this girl?!

She notices his dumbfounded face, "Well if you're really not a bartender, then I'll have to make my own Cosmo, now won't I?"

"You could just, I don't know? Order something else. Maybe… a grasshopper?"

"Oh another green joke? They just get funnier and funnier..."

His smile is smug, "They really do."

She faces him so they're chest to- well chest to head, green girl is also insanely short. But she doesn't let that deter her. He likes that.

"Alright." She challenges, "Make me a grasshopper."

She waits knowingly, her hand on her hip and her eyebrows raised.

A beat. "That's what I thought. Now move and I'll show you how to make a Cosmo... Sans gin."

"Those gin jokes are hilarious too. When's your next set?"

She beams up at him, a sarcastic answer to his equally sarcastic question, but a smile nonetheless. A pretty one.

"Now," she starts, pushing him out of the way and motioning for him to go to the other side of the bar; which is completely inappropriate by the way, but he does what he's told because- he doesn't really know why. Because the green girl with the pretty smile told him to. "The essential part of a cosmopolitan is the _vodka_." She says pointedly, holding up the clear liquid and shaking it in his face a bit.

"Yeah, yeah. Vodka good, Gin bad. Still funny."

She giggles at that, and if he thought her smile was pretty, well…

"Now the triple sec… whoops." She sings as she pours in an excessive amount of the grain alcohol. He may not be a bartender, but even he knows she'll be regretting _that_ in the morning.

"I don't know cosmos well, but I feel like that's more than is supposed to go in there."

"Mhmm."

"Well, then I'm going to have to charge you extra."

She tops it off with a splash of cranberry juice, "Oh, I won't be paying for this."

He's amused, "Oh no?"

She takes a sip and hums in delight, "Nope. You like me too much to make me pay."

She takes a seat next to him, and damn it she's right. He doesn't really have a retort for her, but then he remembers their agreement; Cosmo for explanation.

She leaves a smudgy, green handprint on her martini glass that he nods towards, "Spill, Kermit."

She snorts into her drink, "Okay, that one was actually funny."

He likes making her laugh.

She takes a deep breath, "Alright, the green make up is for a show I'm in, it's called _Wicked_, have you heard of it?"

He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, "Yeah. My brother Kurt is- I don't even know how to describe it. Like, picture… Minnie Mouse singing Defying Gravity on a never ending loop."

"You lie!"

"I wish." He sighs, "Seriously, his friends call him Guy-linda."

She snorts again. It's probably the most distastefully, charming thing ever.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. That sounds insulting, and it's probably not even true."

He shrugs it off. Let her think what she wants about Kurt, it's her opinion of him that really matters.

"Anyways, I'm an understudy for Elphaba." She sounds a little embarrassed

"A Broadway understudy? That's pretty legit." And he means it. She has to be damn good to be that close to a lead role on a Broadway stage.

"I never said Broadway…" she reveals cryptically, downing the rest of her drink

He nods in understanding, "Hence the crying?"

She sighs, "No. The crying was because, even though it's not on Broadway, it's a crappy theatre no one's heard of, performed by a company with no recognition; I was finally supposed to perform today. The girl who usually plays her got sick suddenly, so they got me ready and it was like 10 minutes to show time when she came in, miraculously cured. The director told me I could just go home…"

"And then you ended up here?"

"No. Then I missed the subway and decided to walk, got rained on… while painted green. Then came here, was stared at for 5 minutes, refused the drink of my choice, gawked at for being in costume and called a wicked witch!"

He scoffs, "Who would do such a thing?!"

"The most rude, non-bartender I've ever met! He never even told me his name!"

He laughs, "It's Finn. I'm Finn Hudson. And you are? Bruce Banner? Norman Osborn?

"Oh! Comic book references? Is that how you get the girls?"

He leans in close, "Who says I want to get the girl?"

"Just this feeling I have. That Finn Hudson has a thing for _Rachel Berry_. The green girl who taught him how to make the best cosmopolitan in New York."

"Rachel Berry." He repeats

"The one and only." She does a tipsy little bow for him

She grabs the pen on the bar and writes her number on his palm, leaving green fingerprints on his skin.

He feels the sudden urge to stop her. It's like this weird reminder, _'Wait! You're supposed to be sad! No more women ever! They rip your heart out and stomp on it in their designer shoes!'_

But then she writes '-Kermit' underneath her phone number, and he can't tell this girl to stop any more than he can make a Cosmopolitan.

She makes him promise to call her when he's not busy fake-bartending and he asks her what color she'll be on Saturday night, because he'd like to take her out, and his favorite color is blue, not green.

When Sam finally comes back he asks why there's a puddle of green goo behind the bar.

And outside, the rain has finally stopped.

* * *

She's not green on their first date.

Or blue or purple or any other color.

She wears a pink dress and a beaming smile and it's sunny outside.

* * *

He tells Rachel he's a really nice guy on their second date.

They're at this little coffee place Rachel insists makes the best cup in New York. He tells her that every coffee shop says that and that every coffee shop has a devoted customer who boasts about their prize winning New York Coffee.

She laughs and rolls her eyes, as she's prone to do, he's learned already. But he realizes how cynical he must sound. And how he called her a 'wicked fucking witch' when they first met and he's so not that asshole guy. He just- he's still a little toxic he thinks. Rachel's helping in a big, warm, welcomed way. But there's still this lingering pain. It's only their second date after all.

But when he tells her he's a nice guy it's to clarify; only he confuses her more than anything else.

"I think so." She says with scrunched eyebrows

"No it's- I'm really nice. My friend Santana says I make puppies look like werewolves or something- she says it in Spanish so I'm not totally sure, but I'm nice- God this isn't coming out right."

She laughs and touches his hand, a silent nod that he can talk about something else if he wants. But he _doesn't_ want to. He just needs to get this out.

"I think what I'm trying to say is that I'm not in the best place right now. Like I never would've called you a wicked- I would've never said that to you if it were like …3 years ago."

She still looks confused, but she's listening very intently, sipping her coffee with concerned eyes.

So he tells her that he really likes her and that he just went through a really painful break up that he's still trying to work through.

It sounds terribly like an escape attempt, and he awkwardly tries to backtrack, but Rachel shushes him. Tells him she understands and that when he's ready to talk, she'll be there to listen.

And he's not going to tell her this, because Sam told him he's always too cheesy with women. He thinks part of the reason things didn't work out with Quinn was because he asked her once if she wanted to have a destination wedding in Hawaii… he said they could get Maui-ed.

So yeah, he's trying to tone down the cheese, and honestly he doesn't want to scare her because this is only their second date, but he thinks Rachel is just… the light.

She makes him feel like this abyss of darkness he's been barreling down has an end. Even though his heart still feels heavier than it should, having Rachel in his life means that some day, his happiness won't be littered with sadness, he'll just be happy.

And that kind of optimism is pretty priceless to him these days.

* * *

It's right, in some weird way, that on the day they're supposed to go on their fifth date Finn comes down with the flu.

It's a terrible, snotty, red-nosed, hacking, fever, mucus-y thing and Rachel refuses to let him cancel.

He tells her if she'd like to see him barf on the dance floor of the club they're supposed to go to, then sure, he'd love to take her out.

And she tells him that they can still have their date, it'll just be a staying in date instead of going out.

Rachel wins, because she always does. Even five dates in, he can't stand to see her disappointed.

So it's right that he's a disgusting mess when she arrives, because she tells him, after his loud protests,

"You do remember I was green when we met right? And 'melting' as you so delicately put it."

He moans, but she lets out a little giggle, "And now you're the one who's green. Well, technically I was _emerald. _You're more like…murky, swamp green."

"Has anyone ever told you how incredible your bedside manner is?"

"Oh your poor baby." She coos, only slightly sarcastic as she sits next to him on the bed

"Mhmm." He hums pushing his head further into her hand

It's peaceful for a moment, Finn looks completely content as she rubs gentle circles on his pounding head, but then he starts sniffling and then clearing his throat roughly, before loud, laboring coughs wrack his entire body.

He vaguely recognizes that date five is not the benchmark for seeing someone in such a gross state, but really what is the benchmark for watching someone cough up a lung? Furthermore, what's the benchmark for seeing a girl you're dating painted a different color?

Anyways, Rachel grabs the tissue box and hands it to him, watching with a weird smirk as he blows his nose obnoxiously loud.

"What?" he asks, as she clearly has something to say, something that seems suspiciously like a joke. "Come on Chris Rock, just get it out. I know how you love to make fun of me."

She rolls her eyes, but looks positively giddy with anticipation, "It's just that, this isn't exactly the _blow job _I had in mind for tonight!"

He gives her a round of half-assed applause "Wow. I mean, seriously. Just hilarious material you've got there, Berry."

She bows, a proud smile on her face.

"You know I have to say, I totally thought you'd be a better nurse than this."

"Well, Finn Hudson, I am full of surprises. Besides, after the way we met, you can't blame me for appreciating the way the spectrum's evened out. It's only fair."

He groans, "Not the same thing."

"Alright fine you big baby, Nurse Berry at your service. How can I make it better?"

He peaks one eye at her, "Nurse Berry? That's actually pretty hot…"

"You perv! You're not sick at all are you?"

He laughs at how scandalized she gets about this stuff, it's very cute. "No, no. I'm sick. Trust me."

She still looks suspicious, "Well, what do you want me to do for you- and if you say something sexual I'm making you take me out to that club we were supposed to go to."

He wants to remind her that _she _was the one who brought up blow jobs, but he bites his tongue. He knows she's not kidding about making him go out, "You can sing."

"Sing?"

"Mhmm. I still haven't heard you."

"That's a lie. I played you that tape!"

"Not the same. I want to hear it in person, and I know exactly what I want you to sing."

"Oh you do? What's that?"

He lifts his head to look her in the eye, a huge smile on his face, "The Rainbow Connection."

She hits him with a pillow for that one, and he's laughing so hard it turns into another coughing episode, but it's totally worth it.

For the record, when she does sing it her voice is perfection, and he's never felt better.

* * *

He doesn't want to talk about Quinn for a long time. And Rachel waits patiently like she promised. They go on date number 6 and 8 and 15 and she's slowly putting him back together without even knowing what broke him in the first place.

Rachel can sense that there is something that isn't right. Because she's smart and sensitive and he can't really be mad at her for noticing, no matter how much he wishes she hadn't.

She asks why he never wants to sleep at her apartment, and why he won't let her watch his dog when he has to go out of town for the weekend, and why he won't clear space for her in just one drawer.

He wants to explain it in an encouraging way, but he doesn't know how, so he tells her the truth.

That he fell in love with a woman named Quinn when he was brand new to the city, a fresh faced and naive boy from Ohio. That she was a sweet, experienced, city girl he fell for hard and quick. Too head over heels to worry about what she'd be up to while he visited his mother in Lima, or be suspicious when she'd get phone calls late at night. Too gullible to question her increasingly frequent excuses and too optimistic to ever think his girlfriend could cheat on him.

He tells her how broken he was when he found out. How he felt worthless and like she had replaced him. How angry he was at her and how he had even gone to the building where Puck (that's who she cheated on him with, her ex boyfriend) lived and got all the way to his apartment door before changing his mind.

And then he tells her how he finally started to feel okay, when he and Sam put everything they had into opening a bar together, something they had talked about forever. And he was busy and happy and fulfilled.

And finally, how he ran into Quinn again. At the opening of the bar, where she told him she missed him and that she had made mistakes, but she was truly, truly sorry and they could try again, it had been so great between them before. And it wasn't vindictive or underhanded, she wasn't planning anything or playing him for a fool, she really did miss him and she really was sorry and he really did miss her too.

Just like that they were happy again, he says. They fell right back into each other and after just a month rediscovering their old relationship; he was completely immersed in her life again, sleeping over every night and helping her friends, reading the paper together on Sunday mornings.

And then he tells Rachel how it all fell apart all over again; slow this time, but quick too somehow. Since it seemed to disintegrate in front of his eyes, gradual and unnoticed until it hit him like a train, and he was moved out by sunrise the next day.

And of course he tells her about the pain. The darkness he felt and how it followed him around like a cruel joke, relentless and brutal. How it made him cynical and guarded and held him so tight he thought he might never be free of it, until, by some stroke of fate, Sam had to make a phone call and a crying, green girl caught him by surprise.

Most importantly, he tells Rachel that he knows he's been guarded, that he's been keeping pieces of himself hidden, the pieces that get attached and like seeing his girlfriend's clothes hanging in his closet and adore waking up next a beautiful woman. But he thinks he's finally ready to open his heart again, to be vulnerable. He can say that now, he knows, because of Rachel. Because of the time she's spent repairing his heart, with painstaking kindness and grace.

* * *

Being with Rachel doesn't sustain a hatred for Quinn like he thought it would. Instead of preserving a need to be angry at Quinn, it does the opposite. He starts to learn that moving on isn't just developing a shield that a person can no longer penetrate; really it means exactly what it says. It means your past is concrete, you can't change it and you can't live to hate it, you can only be honest about it and _move on_.

And moving on means that he can't pretend like dating Quinn was the worst thing in the world. But the truth is that dating Quinn was like a roller coaster. Up and downs every single day. Fights and make ups, blissful highs and agonizing lows. Confusing and scary and uncertain. Just…exhausting so much of the time.

But Rachel- Rachel is finally getting to ride in the car with the windows down after a winter spent suffocating in the cold. She's a cool drink on a sunny day and a blanket on a blistery one. She's the steady kind of happiness he thought naive to hope for; a feeling he was starting to believe could never really exist.

But she does. It exists because she exists. And he's moved on.

* * *

He loves her.

He's sure of it. It's a fact.

He wants to sing it from the rooftops and shout it so that everyone in the city- everyone in the entire world can hear.

But he can't tell Rachel.

He's been fighting with himself about it for weeks. He wants to tell her when she eats spaghetti with a spoon and a fork in the most painstaking, dainty, _Rachel _way possible. But he doesn't.

He wants to tell her when she DVR's the Knicks game for him, even though she told him on their 16th date that sports are the only New York ritual she refuses to participate in.

And God, he wants to tell her when its only 10:00 and her fancy shoes lay forgotten on the floor and her party dress rides up her thighs and she snores softly in his ear.

He loves her because they couldn't even make it out of his apartment.

Because she's delicate and considerate and funny and sweet.

She snores and she snorts and she pokes fun at him, and he _loves_ her.

He should be able to tell her. So he plans this whole thing, to make them cosmos like she taught him, but he'll use green food dye and- and Sam tells him it's the corniest thing he's ever heard.

It's not constructive or helpful at all, but Sam says even Brittany would cringe at that kind of sappy, planned out crap and she told him she was pregnant with a shirt she made for her cat.

Kurt tells him he's stalling. That taking the time to plan out some grand gesture is just a way to avoid what his real issues are.

And okay, maybe that's true. But he stills throws a pillow at Kurt's face and tells him he watches too much Oprah.

Which just makes Kurt go into this whole rant about how Quinn was a rare breed, in the worst possible way, that she had daddy issues and abandonment issues and commitment issues and she took the whole "quirky fashionista" thing way too far on multiple occasions and-

And blah blah blah, Finn knows Kurt never liked Quinn so he's totally biased. Bashing Quinn doesn't help with his current predicament.

The problem isn't Quinn, and it's obviously not Rachel, it's him. The truth is, he feels like himself again, better than himself really. And the parts that felt dark and scarred, they're mended. The only thing left is this feeling he can't seem to be rid of; that he's damaged goods. That the issue was never really Quinn, because she gave it two tries and still couldn't make it work with him. There was something missing, something_ he _was missing.

He agonizes over it for weeks, and then it just sort of happens.

He's hanging out behind the bar, slacking off with Sam, there's like one dude in the place watching the Yankee game and nursing a beer, so no big deal.

Rachel comes in around 11, she looks exhausted and he wasn't expecting her.

Sam says something about her not being green like he always does and she doesn't even pretend to look offended.

"Hey you," Finn greets, leaning over the bar to kiss her, "What's wrong?"

She shrugs a little, lets out a slow sigh, "Long day."

He gets the martini glass out before she even has to ask.

And yeah, she's taught him how to make this like a million times, but he's still not too great at it, so he's concentrating really hard. He's got his tongue pressed between his lips and his eyebrows scrunched as he painstakingly measures out the ingredients.

He looks up at her between the cranberry juice and the vodka, gives her this apologetic smile like he knows this won't come out as good as hers do.

And all of a sudden she's got this reverent look on her face, like she can't believe what she's seeing in front of her. He's about to apologize (again) for his shitty bartending skills, but then she just blurts it out,

"I love you."

He's never really understood overdramatic displays of surprise before, but when the tumbler he's shaking goes flying out of his hands, it starts to makes sense.

"You…what?"

He half expects her to change her mind, to apologize for just blurting it out and ask if it's too soon and if he's okay, tell him he doesn't have to say it back. But she's steady as ever, looking quite satisfied with herself.

"I love you, Finn."

He hates that he's even thinking about Quinn right now, because she is so far from what matters, but seeing that confident smile on Rachel's face- Quinn_ never_ looked like that. Love with her was always complicated, it was confusing and had to abide by rules and it was unsure and encased in all these fears and mistrust.

But Rachel…She's just unapologetic and certain and sincere, and he loves her so much for it.

Oh crap, he still hasn't said it back.

"I love you too!" he yells and instantly winces, because he doesn't want it to sound like he's just catching up with her, he doesn't want her to think for a second that he's saying it for any of the wrong reasons.

"Rach- god, I've wanted to say it for so long I just- I didn't know how and honestly, that sounds like the dumbest thing in the world right now because the only thing that's important is that you know. And I've been keeping it a secret like an idiot."

"It's alright." She shrugs, "I've known for a long time too."

She's an enigma, his Rachel Berry. Sometimes he thinks she cares so much about so many small things, that she has little left for the big things. He can add that to the ever-increasing list of things he loves about her; since he tends to flub the really big things anyway. He gets nervous and stutters and flings martini shakers and he's sure he'd have messed this whole thing up a long time ago had it not been for Rachel's patience and understanding.

That little voice in his head (that sounds suspiciously like Kurt) is screaming for him to stop. To just accept the love of this angel of a woman, and never ask questions or wonder why. But then this other voice, the voice of his darkness, his loathing and fear (that sounds an awful lot like the critical voice of Quinn Fabray) tells him he has to know for sure. That he can't give his heart to someone who simply loves the idea of him, or who thinks she _should_ love a man like him so she forces herself to try.

"But Rach, why now?"

He winces as the words tumble from his mouth, because he can hear how needy and unsure they sound traveling through the air between them. But Rachel doesn't cringe or run or take back the words, she simply smiles at him like she's thrilled to have the opportunity to tell him exactly why.

"Because you stick your tongue out when you make me cosmos, because you always want to hear about my day, because you asked me out on a date when I was painted green, because you love to stay home on Saturday nights, because you won't sing with anyone but me, because you take care of me, even when I don't deserve it and you're sweet to me when I'm acting like a brat, because you're big hearted and silly and kind to the bone, because when you look at me you make me feel like I'm the only person who matters in the entire world-"

He cuts her off with his lips on hers. He doesn't need to hear anymore, because he knows precisely what she's saying. The sentiment is familiar to him; I love everything about you. He knows because he could tell her that same thing, that he loves her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes; when she's gentle and when she's needy and angry and sad and smiling and laughing and crying, when she's happy, when she's blue, even when she's green…especially when she's green.

* * *

A year later, in the same place the girl with the melting green face woke a heart long afraid to feel with a tipsy bow and a beaming smile, he asks her to marry him.

The cosmopolitan is prepared with painstaking precision, he dyes the liquid green and drops the ring in just before she's due to arrive. He knows it's cheesy, but the thing is, Rachel _likes _cheesy.

She doesn't hesitate to say yes, not even for a moment. And it's the first time he's ever seen her leave over any liquid in her martini glass.

She allows exactly three minutes of kissing and tears and I love you's before she immediately calls Kurt to pick a time to start shopping for wedding dresses. She tells everyone she passes on the street that she's engaged; men, women, children, the hot dog guy, a homeless man on 18th street, she doesn't discriminate. And she admires the ring on her finger, her _finger, _for days after.

She's proud to be with him, elated to start the rest of their life together_. _And it makes all the difference.

And when they're in their bed later, she whispers how she wants him to sing to her, sing anything, Finn, she says, something to help remember this moment.

He tells her he won't ever need any help remembering this, her, today.

But he'll sing if she wants him to, he'll do anything she wants him to, and he knows exactly what song to choose.

And sing it he does, but he needs help of course, and who better to give it than her?

She smiles and links their hands,

_When green is all there is to be  
It could make you wonder why  
But why wonder why wonder  
I am green, and it'll do fine  
It's beautiful, and I think it's what I want to be._

.

.

..

* * *

Sigh. I just don't know. In my brain, Aiden Shaw and Finn Hudson are one in the same, sweet, funny, silly, gallant…hot. Anyways! Hope the green wasn't too repetitive or nauseating. Let me know what you think

Glee and Sex and the City do not belong to me.

Nor does the song Rainbow Connection, or It's Not that Easy Being Green, which is, of course, the final song in the story.

Title from, Not Myself by John Mayer


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